


Substance

by buckydiaz (sailormade)



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:55:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23369590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sailormade/pseuds/buckydiaz
Summary: “I’d like everyone to meet my girlfriend, Ana,” Eddie said, and Buck’s entire world crumbled to pieces.
Relationships: Eddie Diaz/Ana Flores, Evan “Buck” Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan “Buck” Buckley/Josh Russo
Comments: 13
Kudos: 192





	Substance

**Author's Note:**

> • intentionally written passively  
> • wrote this on my phone bc my laptop is kaputz  
> • navy is shipping me off tomorrow & i won’t be back until early june so i was eager to get this posted  
> • not beta’d, just a quick oneshot  
> • pls lemme know what you think  
> • hi i love the josh/buck concept  
> • i saw someone else tag ms. flores as “ana flores” so i assume that’s canon lol but idk her name so if i stole that i’m sorry

“I’d like everyone to meet my girlfriend, Ana,” Eddie said, and Buck’s entire world crumbled to pieces.

After Shannon passed, Buck knew that Eddie would start dating again eventually; What he didn’t know was why it stung so badly to see Eddie—and the rest of the 118—fawning over Ana. Ana Flores was pretty, and spunky, and quick-witted, and smart—and most importantly, she loved and doted on Christopher, who had her wrapped around his little finger.

Carla wasn’t wrong when she said that Christopher was Prince Charming. He really was.

Eddie, too. And, God, how far gone was Buck on Eddie that he thought of him as Prince damn Charming? When did Buck’s little crush on the rugged new recruit spiral into something of such substance?

Buck took a bite of Bobby’s homemade lasagna and tried not to cry while Ana recapped her and Eddie’s last date for Hen and Chimney. If he were a better man, he’d be happy that his best friend felt comfortable enough to date again.

Buck wasn’t a better man.

***

Two days after Eddie invited Ana to dinner at the firehouse, Buck called Josh and asked him if he’d like to go out sometime.

Josh was handsome and humorous, professional when he needed to be, and deeply endearing in the theatrical, over-the-top way that he expressed himself. Buck liked him.

Not quite as much as Eddie. But enough.

“I’d love to,” Josh had said with a startled, joyful chuckle. “I didn’t realize—“

“That I was into guys?” Buck finished.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry.”

Though Josh couldn’t see him do so, Buck smiled. “Not a problem. I haven’t been particularly forthcoming about it lately. Just—Are you free tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, absolutely.” Josh said. He didn’t bother trying to hide the excitement in his voice.

“Great! I’ll pick you up at the end of your shift. Around eight thirty? I’ve got everything planned out.”

A beat of silence stretched out between them, and then Josh began, “Hey, um, where are we. . .”

“My place. Just us, safe and sound. That way you don’t have anxious about anything.”

“You’re too sweet,” Josh said; Buck could heard the relief in his voice. “Thank you.”

“See you tomorrow, Josh.”

“Yeah, see you, Buck.”

***

They agreed to take it slow. No sex. No heavy-petting. No kissing with tongue. They’d both been through enough trauma to last a lifetime, and sex—well, sex complicated things, especially for Buck. It was deceptively easy to bury trauma and grief and self-loathing and guilt under a thick haze of sex and leave it there, hidden. Lying in wait.

Forty five minutes into their date—dinner that Bobby taught Buck how to cook, red wine, and Josh’s favorite indie film—Josh was deep-throating Buck in the kitchen, and fifteen minutes after that Buck had Josh bent over the kitchen table; He plastered himself to Josh’s back and fucked him steady and deep while he jerked him off to the tempo of his thrusts.

In the aftermath, sitting butt naked on Buck’s kitchen floor and finishing their zesty lemon salmon, Buck said, “So much for taking it slow.”

Josh shrugged. “There was a valid effort. That’s what counts.”

Buck laughed and kissed him on the mouth. In the spirit of taking things slow, he didn’t use tongue.

***

Eddie called Buck the following Friday and asked if he wanted to come over and help Christopher finish a project for school. There was the usual promise of pizza and ice cold sweet tea and, of course, Christopher. Buck almost agreed until Eddie mentioned that Ana was already there and wanted to meet him properly, since they hadn’t really spoken at the firehouse.

Buck’s heart withered. He immediately declined.

“Sorry, man,” He said. “I’ve got a date.”

He didn’t.

“Oh,” Eddie said; Buck tried not to feel too offended by the surprise in his voice. “I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”

“It’s still new,” Buck replied. “But I really like him. And we’re both—we’re helping each other heal from some shit, so. It’s good, so far. I’m happy.”

He wasn’t. Not really. More often than not, Buck wanted to pack a bag and leave everything behind. Not forever, he didn’t think, but for awhile. It’s what the Buckley siblings were good at: running away and disappearing without a trace, like ash scattered in the wind.

“I’m glad to hear that. You deserve to be happy, Buck. I mean that.”

Tears stung Buck’s eyes. In what world did he deserve to be happy? Sure, he’d saved a few lives, but that didn’t make up for what an absolute fucking trainwreck he was.

“I gotta’ go. Tell little man I’ll see him soon. Bye, Eddie.”

“Buck, hey, wait—“

He ended the call and texted Josh.

***

Buck fucked Josh again, this time in Josh’s bed.

It was slower than last time, a little closer to making love, and there were more long, lingering kisses and soft words. Josh squeezed Buck’s hips with his thighs and clung onto him like an anchor, a lifeline. He shook apart in Buck’s arms as he came, gasping and arching and whimpering, “Buck, Buck, Buck,” like a benediction. A prayer.

Buck had never heard his name sound so holy.

“I’ve got you,” Buck whispered against the shell of his ear, still thrusting gently, fucking Josh through the aftershocks. “I’ve got you.”

In the afterglow, they slept. Dead to the world.

In the morning, over breakfast, Buck told Josh about South America; About running from his hateful, heavy-handed father, and about the illegal bartending he did, and about selling his body on the side to make ends meet, and about how the Navy didn’t want him.

He told Josh things that he’d never told Eddie, and never would. He found himself trusting Josh with truths that he rarely trusted himself with.

Hm. Eddie.

Thinking about him hurt Buck a little less. The wound in heart didn’t feel quite so raw. The substance of his schoolboy crush seemed to be deteriorating—something Buck felt deeply grateful for.

He was tired of pining after straight boys, especially straight boys that he happened to be friends with.

***

Buck went over to Eddie’s the following night with Josh in tow. Ana was there again, helping Christopher ice sugar cookies.

Her, Eddie, and Christopher looked like a sweet little family unit, perfectly matched. And while it still hurt to witness, it only hurt a little; The tightness in Buck’s chest loosened as soon as he looked at Josh.

“This is my boyfriend, Josh,” Buck said when they entered the kitchen.

Boyfriend. It’d been a long time since he’d had one of those. Warmth flooded every part of Buck’s body and, next to him, Josh’s smile was blinding.

“Hi Josh!” Christopher said, ever the social butterfly. “Do you want a sugar cookie?”

Josh’s eyes lit up. “I’d love one! Thanks, big guy.”

He joined Christopher and Ana at the table, his excitement just as palpable as Christopher’s, and Buck looked on fondly.

He didn’t realize Eddie was there until Eddie knocked their shoulders together and handed him a beer.

“I like him,” Eddie said with a crooked smile. “He suits you.”

Buck smiled back. “I do, too.”

For the first time in a long time, Buck felt content.


End file.
